A Synthetic Christmas
by writerfan2013
Summary: "Nobody can make you artificial," Leo said. "It's a choice. Some people choose to pretend Christmas is all idyllic. Some people choose to throw money at it. Some people eat a bit of turkey and that's the end of it. It's just a choice." Mattie's first Christmas with Leo. Oneshot. Follows on from the Interface series or can be read alone. Mostly fluff. Leotilda


Mattie climbed down at the appointed bus stop and stood adjusting her rucksack as the bus thundered away. The rucksack was cheap, a knockoff of a premium brand, that Mattie had got in the market for this trip. The boots were fakes too, and she only hoped that they stood up to genuine Lake District wilderness.

She trudged along the wet road, blinkered by her anorak hood, dodging the gutter-wake of trucks loaded with cut timber. After half a mile she struck off across the fields, a Footpath sign guiding her towards a low wood. The December sky was overcast and cold, on the verge of freezing rain.

This was her first time visiting Leo at home, his home. After more than a year of friendship, half that again of something warmer and closer, she had never seen the house he shared with Mia and Max, and now Fred too. When she saw him, which was rarely, it tended to be in decrepit pubs selling watered down beer, who liked lock-ins and avoided Trading Standards. The level of comfort in the en suite bedrooms was poor, but had the advantage of being off the official radar.

Her route now took her through dripping woodland, not the snowy perfection of a Christmas card but bleak reality: black, slimy trunks, leaves slippery under her boots, and a chill silence over all of it, her breath in clouds the only evidence of life. She was glad when the wood ended at a gravel lane which led to a row of four terraced houses. Leo's was the second from the left, with a brown door, and drawn curtains.

Other places she had passed on her journey up through the Lakes looked sanitised, postcard-ready, but this little group had missed the tourism memo. They were narrow, coated in bobbly grey render and had a ramshackle look. Wheelie bins were grouped at the end of the lane, and all cars were parked at the side of the nearest house. These were homes for workers, for people who had to get up in the mornings, not for people experiencing the Cumbrian dream of fireside dinners and glorious walks.

Mattie was soaked up to her knees and throughly over any idea she might have had that this trip would involve the great outdoors. She was here to see Leo, and inevitably work, and so long as the cottage had radiators she didn't care what was outside the double glazing.

Mia answered the door with hands covered in flour. She wore a plastic apron, and her hair was tied back. She hustled Mattie inside, locking the door after her. Then Mia gave Mattie a warm, floury hug. "Come in! And welcome."

The tiny living room was decorated with a plastic tree, and extremely cheap glitter baubles, the kind that come in a cylinder of thirty, half of them smashed by the time they reach the pound shop. There were some streamers taped across the ceiling, and it took Mattie a moment to realise why this display of festivity seemed so hollow: no Christmas cards.

Of course. She was almost their only friend.

Max was sitting at a scratched oak table, swiping through screens on a tablet: games. Mattie knew that making games was his hobby and provided a trickle of income too. He looked up and smiled.

"Fred's in the kitchen with me," said Mia. "We're making stollen for you, for tomorrow." She gave a quick smile and disappeared into the hallway.

Leo hunched in an armchair, a paperback in his hand. He got up as Mattie came in, the book dropping to the carpet.

In a Christmas ad, he would show his teeth in a twinkling beam, before enveloping her in a bear hug. Music would play, tears would spring into her eyes, and the magic of Christmas would be brought to them both by Coke, or perhaps Pfizer.

This was not an ad, and Christmas was mostly fake anyway. She wasn't here for Christmas, not really, and she could not picture Leo developing sudden festive cheer.

"Hey," he said.

She unhooked the rucksack at last. "Hey."

He did hug her then, and she obviously clung too long because he wriggled free, saying, "I'll get the kettle on."

This, then, was the difference of seeing him at home: his family were there, and although, surely, they knew that Mattie and Leo were more than friends, it seemed that it was not discussed. Leo treasured his privacy, which made sense.

Mattie began unloading the rucksack. She had brought gifts, plus her computer and some nicer-than-usual PJs. This was her first Christmas away from her parents'. She was making this up as she went along.

She brought out a bottle of _Advocaat_. Her old auntie always had one out at Christmas, and although obviously none of her hosts really drank, she wanted to see their faces when they tasted it. She was prepared to bet money that they had never so much as seen the thick yellow drink before. The label gave the name as 'Dutch style alcoholic beverage with eggs, sugar and brandy equivalent.' Delightful. At least the real _Advocaat_ didn't go on about the eggs.

In the kitchen she greeted Fred. Fred worked from home as a call centre operator; Mia packed eggs at a nearby farm. Leo was the main breadwinner, driving a delivery van, cash in hand. Life was hard, and full of risks, and yet here they were making festive food, and Doing Christmas as if the whole season was not just an excuse to wring money from the gullible public. Mattie was not sure what to make of it.

"It might snow tomorrow," said Fred. "We could make a snowman."

"Max's snowmen are amazing," said Leo. He was making the brews, but he kept glancing at Mattie and she knew he was pleased she was here. He was not the type to be effusive. He didn't try to make a romantic evening out of a night spent working with inadequate internet in some dodgy guest house; he didn't pretend not to be stressed when he was worried out of his mind about something. But when he was content, he told her so. Mattie could take Leo at face value, and she cherished that.

"We'll do presents tomorrow," said Mia. She smiled at Mattie. "You're our first ever guest at Christmas, we might have gone a bit mad."

"I brought this," said Mattie. She presented the _Advocaat_.

The three of them peered at the bottle's declaration of eggs and brandy substitute.

"It's kind of a tradition at home," said Mattie.

"A disgusting tradition," said Leo, wrinkling his nose.

"Yup. Compulsory." She grinned at him. "You must have traditions too, things you always do."

"We stay up late and play games," said Mia. "Pictionary. Charades."

"Oh my god," said Mattie, imagining synth charades. "...Ok. I'm up for that."

"Just let us know when you want to go to bed," said Fred. "We'll clear out of the living room, and I'll get the futon set up."

Ah. Awkward. Mattie cut her eyes at Leo.

"Mattie'll be in my room," he said.

"OK," said Mia at once.

"No problem," said Fred. What a tag team. Zero surprise, total non judgement. What on earth did they really think? Were they curious? Did they experience sexual love, or was it just a series of actions they could call on when required?

There was only one person Mattie could ask, and he was stirring tea and refusing to make eye contact with his family. Maybe later.

He and she had found the interface between human and machine, but there was so much still to learn. "Your dad was a genius," Mattie had said over and over during their many online conversations. Leo would give no reply. His honesty again: they were both up to their necks in genius and she as much as he was building fresh ways to join emotion to knowledge.

"Let us know if you need anything," Mia said to Mattie. "We are not very practised at this."

Leo, balancing two teabags on a spoon, cast Mattie a sideways smile.

"Just wing it," Mattie said. "I think that's all anyone ever does."

* * *

It was weird that Leo slept in a bunk bed, but it was all that fit in the room beside his desk, plus it was theoretically also Max's bed, if anyone snooped around.

Mattie threw on her pyjamas with a speed born of chilly student rooms, and climbed into the bottom bunk without ceremony. Leo bashed the light switch, cast off all clothes and squashed in beside her.

"I missed you," she said. There was no room to move at all. The bed appeared to be for eight-year-olds.

"Every day," he said. They kissed, and discomfort was forgotten. The most they could usually exchange was an emoji. Sleeping together was the secondary part of their friendship, but still, it existed. Even though Mattie had instigated the touching, the romance, it turned out that Leo was the more passionate one.

"Do you actually like Christmas?" Mattie asked him later. She lay on her side with him flat out beside her on the very edge of the bunk.

He shrugged. "It's all right."

"It causes so much misery," she said. "So much pressure, people feel like they have to buy presents, cook a boatload of food, spend a week with relatives they haven't seen all year. It's just artificial."

"Nobody has to do any of that," he said.

"I know but..."

"Nobody can make you artificial," Leo said. "It's a choice. Some people choose to pretend it is all idyllic. Some people choose to throw money at it. Some people eat a bit of turkey and that's the end of it. It's just a choice."

He was right, of course. She rubbed her cheek against his warm shoulder. "I just want to chill out and then start on the code."

"That's your choice," said Leo.

"What's yours?"

She walked right into that, she thought as he laughed, pulled her on top of him and began kissing her again.

* * *

After breakfast - perfect synth-cooked, American-style pancakes, god how Mattie had missed those - it was time for presents. They all crowded into the little living room and Mattie distributed the various books she'd brought for the synths, items you could not download but which had to be experienced old-school, physically. Max had made Mattie an app that sought out emotional triggers in any data set, perfect for her work. Mia gave her midnight nail varnish swirled with tiny stars, and Fred, a new headset for her VOIP calls with Leo. Mattie felt that their gifts to her displayed more care than any present she'd received in a long time.

Leo handed over a box that fit in her palm. She glanced at him. He sat hunched, his eyes downcast, but flickering up to hers and back as she opened the box.

A silver chain nestled in a twist of tissue paper, and on the chain was a thumbnail-sized silver heart.

It was so beautiful and so conventional that Mattie gasped and laughed in the same breath. She lifted it out, the heart glinting, and put it around her neck. "Thank you." She imagined Leo in some jewellery shop, choosing it: no, impossible. Yet here it was, and she wanted so much to tell him out loud that she loved him. She only smiled, and touched the little pendant as tenderly as if it were his cheek.

"It's not much," she said as he picked up her gift to him and lay it across his knees. "Amazon's finest."

He ripped off the paper and smiled. "Thanks."

"Might keep you warm in the van." Geniuses were so hard to buy for.

He wound the scarf around his neck, smirked around the room. "What do you reckon?"

"Very handsome," said Mia.

Leo came to Mattie and kissed her cheek, rather formal but then he was reticent around his family. She nodded at him, moved to kiss him likewise, chaste, because he'd already said everything with the gift, the surprising gift.

But he shifted, bent to her, and kissed her mouth, lingering, smoothing his hands over her hair even though the synths were all right there and watching. She smiled into the kiss and when it ended, pulled Leo to sit beside her, his arm snug over her shoulders, his family all around. He gave a smile, half embarrassment, half pride, and she squeezed his knee as they acknowledged their intimacy publicly for the first time. Mia and Max were beaming.

Mattie leaned her head on Leo's shoulder. This was all right after all. They were all together, warm and safe. The tree, the baubles, the streamers did not matter. Her love for Leo, and his for her, were what brought her here. His fingers wrapped around her shoulder, her touch caressed his knee. Much of Christmas was fake, but this was real.


End file.
